


amid a crowd of stars

by youheldyourbreath



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youheldyourbreath/pseuds/youheldyourbreath
Summary: "You...you--you DICK!"Peter takes care to slowly click the door to his bedroom shut. She knows Ned could be home at any minute and her misguided, STUPID friend is trying to protect her other friend from their argument. But she could give a shit. Let Ned hear, she wants to shout in Peter's face."You're not really mad at me," he tries to argue.She snorts, "Oh yes, I am." She narrows her eyes. "Don't tell me who I am or am not mad at. And for the record, its you. I'm mad at you."
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 177





	amid a crowd of stars

**Author's Note:**

> there is no plot. this is just smut. *throws glitter*

She wants to throw something at his stupid, noble head.

 _Years_ of this, she quietly curses. She has endured years of Peter Parker trying to protect her. Michelle is so tired of it, she could scream. 

She does. "You...you--you DICK!" 

Peter takes care to slowly click the door to his bedroom shut. She knows Ned could be home at any minute and her misguided, STUPID friend is trying to protect her other friend from their argument. But she could give a shit. Let Ned hear, she wants to shout in Peter's face. 

"You're not really mad at me," he tries to argue.

She snorts, "Oh yes, I am." She narrows her eyes. "Don't tell me who I am or am not mad at. And for the record, its you. I'm mad at you." 

"Fine," he throws his hands up in the air, more exasperated than she has seen him in an age. "You're mad at me. BUT I won't apologize for trying to protect you." 

"Protect me? Protect me?! Oh is _that_ what you've been doing all these years?"

"What else?" 

"You're pushing me away because you're scared," she says before she can stop herself. 

Peter grinds his teeth, as if he has the audacity to be mad at her. "Oh yeah? Scared of what."

"Of this thing between us. This thing you've been ignoring since you came out of hiding after all that Beck stuff five years ago!" 

The room collapses, like a star does before it supernovas. The words suck the air from the room and it folds everything into a black hole. The terrifying unknown stretches out to infinity before them. 

He exhales to the charged, silent room. MJ imagines if the room was cold and frosted from winter, she would have been able to see the puff of his anxious breath, but for now she only imagines it, as it balloons in the space, waiting to explode the tension mounting between them. 

Neither of them moves. It is too scary to take the first step of in any direction. There is something profound to be lost here if they say or do anything wrong. 

"Peter," she says, ignoring the cringe-worthy crack her voice wobbles. 

It snaps the world in two. She immediately wants to flee, run away from the temper change in the room. It is brutally hot as heat licks up her neck and cheeks.

Michelle suddenly can't get out of the room fast enough.

She tries, whirling around on the spot, reaching for the door-handle, but his sweat-tacky hand grasps her wrist. Angry words bubble to the surface, preparing to lash out, harsh and cruel--

\--but her speech dies on her tongue when he slants his lips over hers. 

Her fists press against his chest, all-together tense and uncertain, but he does not give her the room to think too long. It is _bewildering_. For years, she thought she knew Peter, but this heavy-handed creature is made up of shades she never imagined he possessed. It is all she can do but stand there and be kissed.

Between heavy kisses he plants on her barely-animated mouth, he begs of her, "Open your mouth for me, Em."

Everything from her shoulders down her spine to her toes _shivers_. He is too much and so much more. She doesn't have the words to fully explain. She doesn't want to search for them either. 

There is only one. Peter. Peter. _Peter_. 

She gasps into his mouth at his command and his hands clamp around her waist, hauling her closer. Hands grabbing flesh where he can reach. His tongue meets hers in the middle, licking and plundering and fighting for dominance, and together they find something new. A dark thrill rushes through MJ. Peter cups her ass with the flat palms of both his hands and hoists her up, lifting her up off the floor and fitting her around his waist. She crushes her legs around him, holding him in place, as he walks backwards to the cramped desk in the corner of his room. 

Distantly, she hears the crash of papers and other items as they clatter to the floor when he brushes them aside with one forearm swipe. She hears a giggle, too. No, she hears _her_ giggle. She is giggling at his antics and he is smiling and kissing her and tastes like joy. She does not know how to bottle up these moments fast enough and keep them close to her heart forever. 

She is trembling with excitement when he sets her down on the edge of his desk. He leans in for another kiss, but she stops him and presses her forefinger to his lips. His dark eyes clear and something hopeful dances behind his irises. 

Her finger drops. Michelle smiles, "Hi." 

He smiles back, "Hey." 

"This is nice," she observes, dumbly. Peter only nods. Her hands are graceless instruments as they paw at the fabric of his shirt at the base of his neck. It offers no support and yet she holds onto it like a lifeline. Or maybe it is him. 

"I, uh," he stutters to start. "I hope you know how much-- you know, right?" 

She nods shyly, "I know." 

"And, uh, you feel that way, too." His eyes are open and fragile, like what she says now matters more than anything he has ever heard in his entire life. And one time Peter found out he had superpowers. She is humbled by how much she matters to him. This wonderful, ridiculous, beautiful, brave boy. "Right?"

Her traitorous heart clenches. "Yes, I do."

Peter beams. And she burns this moment into her memory before her mind clouds over as he kisses her again and again and again. It is a heady mix of tongues and smiles that shouldn't work but it _does_. It is the most profoundly kissed she has ever felt in her life. She never understood how kissing could be so consuming, but now she gets it. It is like she is burning from the inside and the inferno cannot be quenched. It is an alive thing that consumes. But it isn't scary. The burning is rebirth. It is making way for something new and wonderful. 

She could never be scared of a fire like that. 

Michelle groans in frustration. His shirt is now in the way. She makes the executive decision to divest him of the offending garment. With unpracticed, eager hands, she tries to rip it from his body. The fabric pulls and Peter has the gall to laugh. She pouts and pulls her hands away from his body. 

He captures her hands and cradles them to his chest. She does her best to look very upset with him, but she knows she is falling. At best, she looks irritated. "I'm not laughing at you," he manages to read her mind. "I'm laughing because you're so...cute." 

Her irritation only surges. "I'm cute?" 

He nods. "You are cute. You've always been cute." He pulls the hands held in his own to his mouth and kisses the back of her palms. "If you need help taking off my shirt, I can help." 

"I can take off a shirt." And to prove it, she wipes his hands away from hers and unbuttons her own second-hand top. It is a faded blue color and frayed from previous owners before its second life at the vintage store she bought it. The top falls open and reveals her standard, white-cotton bra. It is not her sexiest garment, but Peter looks possessed. She wills herself not to cover her chest. Instead, she sits indignantly at the edge of his desk as Peter grapples with what to do next. 

He makes her wait a long time. It begins to eat away at the confidence she is feigning. Michelle feels more and more unsexy and the moments drag on. She starts to cross her arms over her chest and the action springs life to Peter. He leans in and kisses her hard on the mouth. 

Thought dissolves into action as his hands boldly cup her breasts through the bland fabric of her bra. She makes a sound that is low and surprised. He smiles against her lips. It is enough of a mocking gesture to make her lightly swat at his shoulder. 

Peter takes it in stride as he starts palming her chest. She makes another noise, higher and more airy. He rewards her by tweaking her covered nipple. She chokes on a whimper. He does it again to the other breast and she feels like she might burn out of her skin. She clumsily claws at his back. He is surprisingly broad for someone of his stature. She idly wonders if that is a superhero addition or something Peter might have also possessed in his life before. 

"Peter Parker, if you don't get this damn bra off of me. I swear to God," she threatens weakly. 

She nearly screams when he ignores her request. Instead, _infuriatingly_ , his mouth dots kisses on her neck as his hands play with her chest. Her labored breathing intensifies the more he palms her tits and pinches the covered skin. It is sharp and intense, but still too muted. Simply put, her clothes are getting in the way. 

"Please," she begs. "Please, Peter." 

Her mind _spins_ when he pulls the cups down to expose her breasts and latches his mouth over one of the hardened nipples. "Oh fuck," she hiccups. She grits her teeth, clamping down on the urge to say anything else stupid. She writhes and attempts to pull away and pull him closer in equal measure. His tongue should be illegal, the way it rolls around the hardened nub and sucks. The soft, whimpering sound she makes it full of desperation and he luxuriates in it.

She wants to kick him in his shin for how pleased she can sense Peter feels. 

Her eyes are half-mast, fluttering in the soft light of the room, as her hands curl into his hair. It is soft. She tugs. He makes a noise that does not help the situation. It sends a flood of heat to her core as she realizes Peter Parker _growls_. She can't unlearn a fact like that. 

She arches into his touch when he pops off her breast with a smile Michelle can only describe as beatific. Her hands clasp his cheeks, pillowing gently on his flushed skin, before her nails bite his jaw and she draws him upward for a kiss. "God," he whispers. "I can't believe we wasted so much time." 

"You wasted so much time," she amends, as she arches into his body, rolling her hips in a way that makes him gasp. "I've been here the whole time."

Michelle leisurely rubs against him. His face slackens in something akin to blissed contentment. This is what they deserve, she thinks, after everything. A little bit of peace.

He pinches her thigh when she tightens her loose legs around him. It makes her squeal. It makes him grin. And she absolutely has to kiss him for that. "Peter," she keens, pulsing against his tightening jeans.

Mercifully, he catches her meaning and one of his free hands roves down the exposed path of torso to the valley between her legs. She is parting her legs a bit wider and her kisses lose whatever attention they once possessed. Even like this, fumbling above clothes, is better than anything she has ever had before. He cups the apex of her legs and his ministrations are nothing short of wonderful.

It is not well-practiced or even technically good, but as he stumbles into some hazy rhythm of riding his hand between her clothed legs, she finds she doesn't mind. She sobs his name. His practice grows more confident as he focuses on how and what makes her body tremble. 

Impatiently, Michelle grabs the free hand he still possesses and shoves it back to her neglected breast. He takes her meaning plainly. And she sits on the edge of his scattered desk as her body undulates under his command. 

He strikes upon a brilliant plan when he unclasps her jeans and crushes his hand down the front, meeting her wet center. "Oh my fuck," he says, like the words have been ripped from his chest. "You're so...is that all for me?" She wordlessly nods and licks a kiss into his mouth. He looks stupefied and she is momentarily pleased. Let him be the writhing mess of a person for once in this freakin' exchange. MJ cants her hips forward, a soft reminder that he was in the middle of something before he got sidetracked. "You're right," he says, mostly to himself. "Sorry. Just...wow, you know?"

Michelle pouts, actually honest to God pouts, and whines, "Peter, come on." 

"I know," he says, shaking his head. "I'm just. Wow." 

She sighs and takes the situation into her hands. Literally. With more ability than she knew she possessed, MJ snaps the front of his own jeans open and uses the pads of her feet to shimmy his pants down. It isn't perfect, but it gets the offensive clothing down to his knees and affords her the space to grab his cock. It twitches with interest in her hands. She wonders if it makes her the bad sort to smirk. 

The thing is-- kissing Peter is addictive. There are so many other things that MJ wants to do, but she keeps getting sidetracked. She has her hand around his dick and only pumps it with moderate enthusiasm because he goes and kisses her. "I wanna get you off," she harrumphs between kisses.

"I wanna fuck you first," Peter replies.

It is not what she expects to hear and it sends a rush of heat south. He must feel it gather at his fingertips because he bites her mouth. Her hard nipples are slick with his spit and she is quite possibly soaking through one of her most practical pieces of underwear, but MJ is too hung up on his blunt words to care.

Her voice fails her when she tries to say, "You do?"

He presses his index finger inside of her and the stretch makes her melt. Her neck snaps backward and Peter hides his face in the crook of it. His lips start working their way down her neck. "Fuck you senseless," he clarifies, caging her body between his chest and the wall behind his desk. She tightens around his prodding finger. "But I want everything else, too, Em. All of it. Every day." 

She hesitates as he pushes another finger inside of her. It is not the perfect angle and her jeans are still too in the way for him to get as deep as she would like, but it still makes her shiver. A fresh wave of lush and affection surges through her heated body. "I want you, too. Everything. All of it. Every day." 

The corners of his eyes crinkle and he looks too boyish for someone knuckle deep in her, but, damn him, it makes her smile, too. Their next kiss is messy and sweet, and only ends when Peter fails to set a rhythm with his too confined hand. She sputters a giggle. "This isn't going to work." 

"No, no," he insists. "I got it." 

She presses her hand, the one not wrapped around his cock, to his chest. "Loser. Take off my pants. It'll be so much easier." 

"Oh yeah," he says, like it occurs to him suddenly in that moment. "That would be easier. You're a genius."

"Someone has to be in this relationship." 

He pinches her side in retaliation. She giggles, again. Peter Parker makes her giggle and she is so incandescently happy that she doesn't even find the room to be mad at him about it. 

Together, with a few grinning kisses, they manage to rid MJ of her pants. Her underwear takes a moment longer because Peter drops to his knees and drags them down her legs like he is giving himself a private show. He goes so far as to tuck them in his pocket, hanging loosely around his ankles now, when he divests her of them fully. She opens her mouth to protest when he lowers his own to her sex, finds her clit and _sucks_.

Her hand flies to her mouth to cover her cry. Water prickles at the corners of her eyes as he licks long, searching stripes at her heat. Her hand muffles the surprised, gratified moans tumbling from her throat. He presses his two fingers back inside of her and she sees white. It is not enough to push her over the edge, but it nearly breaks her. Her back bows before she crumbles over his head, fisting her fingers in his hair as he assaults her senses. 

He hoists one of her thighs over his shoulder and works a third finger inside of her. The stretch is just on the side of too much and she loves it. She wonders if the drag of his dick will feel like this or if it will push her open further. 

It is almost _wild_ , when she falls apart. She spasms around his fingers and bursts into a hundred stars to illuminate the galaxy. Her body is suspended in her undoing for longer than it took to make the world and when she floats back to her body, jerking slightly from tremors, she feels brand new. 

Peter, on the other hand, looks exalted. He lumbers to his feet and kisses her fiercely. "You're amazing," he tells her. She can only hum in agreement. 

She soundlessly beckons him to her with open arms and reaches between their bodies to find his beating member. He tries to say something but her brain is not processing English at the moment. It is too jumbled from the way he made her feel, the way he is making her feel still. She kisses him, once more, and it is the kind of kiss that doesn't take prisoners. It makes her toes curl and she hears him whimper.

"I love you," she says, as she pulls him inside.

"I love you, too," he echoes, as two become one.

She should say other things, too, like how she has an IUD and that she has loved him since she was fourteen years old. She should tell him how much it hurt to see him with other girls over the years and how she thought, after Europe, they would be together. How much it had ached when he had to go into hiding. And how it ached even more when he came out of hiding and he had decided to just be friends. 

These are all things she will say later, she is certain. For now, it is only them. Her hips tilt upwards and she watches Peter's eyes roll back in his head. 

He presses his closed fist against the wall next to her head and the other finds her clit. She claws at his back with blunt nails and writhes as their bodies ebb and flow. He rubs at the little sensitive bud relentlessly and she gushes heat. It seats Peter even deeper. 

Their pace fastens and it is like a fever dream has overtaken them. They grab and grope and touch whatever they can. Michelle hikes up the shirt that Peter is still stupidly wearing and flattens her palms on his chest. She decides she would like to ride him one day. Press her hands against his totally bare chest and fuck down on him as hard as she can manage. 

He must be able to read minds because Peter starts to babble, "I love you. You feel so good. God, fuck. Just _feel_ you. Take whatever you want, MJ. It's yours anyway. It always has been." 

And she can only appreciate his words for a moment more, as it builds higher and higher, before MJ, marvelous and unexpected, cries out. Her inner walls flutter around him and drags him down to the new world they have created in the quiet grooves of their bodies together.

He trembles. She whimpers.

And the temperature of the room slowly cools as they learn to breathe again. 

Peter tilts her chin down and captures her mouth in a sweet, soft kiss. It takes everything she has not to smile like some love stricken fool. She only partly succeeds. The corners of her mouth are impossibly soft with affection.

When he pulls away, Peter nudges his nose against the tip of her own and croaks, "My shirt is all sweaty." 

"You never took it off," she smartly retorts. "I took my shirt off. You could have done your own." 

Peter smiles and says, "I love you." She knows he says it just to say it. That makes it more dear than any of the times before. 

"I love you, too," she whispers, suddenly shy. 

"I'm sorry I made us wait." 

She cradles her face in her hands and shakes his head. "Don't do it again." 

He chuckles and puckers his lips. "I won't." 

"Good," she hums into a kiss. 

There is more to say, years worth of misunderstandings and misguided attempts at protection on Peter's end, to sort through, but Michelle doesn't let herself get hung up on the details just now. For once, she lets herself be in the moment. And as Peter wordlessly folds her into his arms, she feels at home at last. 


End file.
